Thurles Information

“Xmas, while being a time of great cheer for the vast majority of people, it can also be a very sad time for some people, mainly due to family deaths” announced Mikey Ryan.

We were above in the Arch Bar, as usual there in Liberty Square, Thurles.

[Well truth is, but keep it to yourself; Mikey was a bit red faced last night, after having been barred the previous week. Pat, in the Arch Bar, explained to me his temporary barred absence. According to Pat he had limped in on a pair crutches, before asking the barman for 2 pints of Harp Lager, 2 pints of Smithwick’s, 4 Vodka and Coke, 3 Genievre Gins and Schweppes Tonic and 6 shots of Mexican Tequila, latter with accompanying lemon wedges. Mikey had downed them all quickly in the same order as he was served, before finally finishing on the shots of tequila, which he dispatched one after the other without so much as a break. He then looked at the barman really sad-faced before declaring, “I shouldn’t have drunk all that, with what I’ve got”.
The barman, having focused on his crutches said, “Why what have you got Mikey?” Mikey supposedly then declared “About €3.86.” ]

No matter, the issue had since been sorted, with the usual loose promises and apologies and hopefully the incident is now in the distant past, never to be referred to again.

“How right you are Mikey” said I, “By the way, talking about deaths, is it true that Molly McNeill passed away today.”
“Indeed, sadly, she did”, confirmed Mikey, “Heard it myself from the horse’s mouth, none other than the late Tommy McNeill’s brother”.
“I seem to recollect she was married twice, if my memory is correct”, said I. “Wasn’t she referred to as Mrs Laffin, before she married the late Tommy McNeill”.
“Aye”, said Mikey, “She took up with Tommy after Jerry Laffin passed on. Sure, they both were in their late 50s, and both widowed”.
“They had been going out with each other for a long time, before getting hitched, if I remember correctly”, said I.
“True for you” said Mikey, “and sure wasn’t I one of many who urged him to make an honest woman of her”.
“I remember when they decided to take my advice and to get married”, continued Mikey, “Tommy McNeill confided in me first, that they had finally named the day”.

Mikey paused before confiding in me that after Molly had said ‘Yes’, (somewhat reluctantly I understand) and before the wedding, both had gone out to Supermac’s for a meal, and they had a long conversation regarding how their marriage might work, as of course one is inclined to do.
A somewhat relieved Tommy, who had feared a marriage refusal, began quietly discussed their finances, details of any outstanding debt, future intended living arrangements, funeral insurance policies currently held, hobbies and so on and so forth. Placed at the very end of the list and therefore the last item for discussion, which needed clear clarification was their future physical relationship, if you know what I mean.

“How do you feel about the sex?” said Tommy, speaking in a tone, as if not really caring, but nevertheless hoping for at least some hint of positive confirmation, with the finer fetishism details to be worked out at a later date.
“I would like it infrequently”, replied the now sadly deceased Molly.
“Tommy told me in strictest confidence”, continued Mikey, “and swore before his death, that he had sat quietly, (picking bits of burger and French fries from cavities in his teeth, using a safety pin ), before he had leaned towards Molly, and again fearing being overheard, he had whispered; “in-frequently! – now, should I take that as being one word or two words?“

“You can be pulling two more pints there Pat, when you have a minute”, said I. “Oh and Pat, by the way, on what night are you dispensing the usual free Xmas drinks?”

“In seven weeks time it will be almost over for another year”, said Mikey Ryan, “and only God knows if we will ever see another one in this life”

We were above in the Arch Bar on Liberty Square, which recently took Gold in Radio TippFm’s Best of Tipp Awards; each enjoying our usual Saturday night tipple.

“Another what”, says I.

“Christmas”, said Mikey, before continuing; “You know I had a dream last night. I dreamed that 3 Tipperary men died last Christmas eve. One was from the village of Littleton, one from nearby Two-Mile-Borris and the third was from here in Thurles town”.

“I think you need to stay off that Cashel Blue cheese and fresh crusty bread last thing at night”, said I.

“No let me finish”, said Mikey. “The other apostles had taken the night off and St. Peter was alone, supervising in person at the Pearly Gate. He informed the 3 Tipperary men, queued in single file, that to get into heaven on Christmas Eve, they must have something on their person that represented the Christmas season, otherwise they would end up in that ‘fiery lake of burning sulphur’, better known as Hell.”

The 3 men looked at each other, before the Littleton man flicks his cigarette lighter and says: “Peter this is a Christmas candle”. St. Peter lets him pass without further questions.

The Two-Mile-Borris man jingles his bunch of keys stating, “Peter these are jingle bells”.
St. Peter nods and again lets him pass without further questions.

The Thurles man steps up to the gate and pulls a woman’s black brassière out of his inside jacket pocket.
St. Peter asks, “What in the name of all things good and holy has that bra got to do with Christmas?”
“These are Carols”, replies the Thurles man.

“Go away out of that”, said I, “I thought you were being serious. Give us the same again there Pat.”